The Interview and other oneshots!
by Shadow182
Summary: Turning into a collection of one-shots and missing scenes. NEW SCENE: Diaries of an Alien overlord, my first fic in SR4 canon!
1. The Interview

**This is a weird little piece I wrote on the train a few days ago. It didn't quite fit properly into _'Resurrection_' so I'm posting it as a one-shot. Enjoy!**

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><p>I tapped my pen on my notebook impatiently and scanned the crowd; the quad was pretty well empty after the events of last week, and the park wasn't looking much more promising. I turned and saw a young man walking towards me and put on my broadest smile.<p>

"Excuse me! Sorry could I have one moment of your time-?"

He just looked at his iPod and brushed past me impatiently. I sighed, habitually tapping my pen on my notebook again. Shit shit shit! No one was very talkative at the moment, unsurprisingly. I made my way up towards the fountains, trying to pick out people who were on their own (couples and groups tended to be more dismissive).

I spied a young woman leaning against a tree, talking on her cell, she sounded a little irritated. I edged a little closer to see if I could catch the words.

"Fine." She said tiredly, a hand running through her long hair, flicking the ebony locks over her shoulder, revealing a small row of stitches over a cut on her arm, "I'll see you in ten."

I watched as she clicked her phone off and stuck it in the pocket of her worn black jeans, folding her arms across her chest and started waiting. I felt myself smile. _Perfect_.

I made a beeline to her, studying her figure before I spoke. Her eyes were hidden by a pair of aviators, and I could spy a few tattoos over her skin. She wore a black singlet with 'SEX PISTOLS' splattered over the front of it, the fabric so loose it showed the sides of her purple bra beneath. There was a collection of piercings up her ears, one in her eyebrow and another on her lower lip. Good. I wanted viewpoints from as many different demographics on campus as possible, and so far hadn't covered the grungy/punk slackers. Not that I'd really covered any demographics.

"Excuse me, miss?" I voiced as I approached her. She ignored me for a moment till I got closer, and she finally looked to me. Or I think she did, I couldn't tell behind the aviators.

"What?" she said coolly. I felt my eyes twitch – _just keep smiling Carmella,_ I reminded myself.

"Sorry to disturb you there, but I was wondering if I could have a few minutes of your time?" I offered as pleasantly as I could. The young woman raised and eyebrow and looked away from me, but seeing as she didn't say anything or walk away, I took it as a sign to continue, "You see, in light of recent gang activity disrupting campus life, the student newspaper had asked me to do a report, and I would like to gauge the different opinions of the student body on campus."

I'd gotten her attention. A half smiled curled up over her lips.

"I'm not a student," she coolly.

"That's no problem!" I said quickly – at this point I'd interview the groundskeeper if he'd give me some time. I had a deadline looming and squat to work with. "Are… are you involved in the university community in _any_ way?" I fished. Her half smile became a sardonic grin at this.

"Yeah. You could say that," she said. There was something off about her tone, but I forced myself to ignore it.

"So… would you mind talking to me for a few minutes?" I asked again. She shrugged, the smile disappearing.

"I already have been, haven't I?" she asked, turning a little to face me, "What do you want to know?"

I couldn't help but grin with relief, smoothing out my blouse and pulling out a recorder, moving to the tree. "Would you like to sit down?" I offered, indicating to the softest looking patch of grass. The woman raised her eyebrows at me, and then shrugged, lowering herself down into the clover. I settled down opposite, clicking the 'record' button and carefully sitting it down on the ground.

"This is Carmella Camry, speaking to…" I paused awkwardly and indicated to the woman.

"Oh," she said, leaning forward slightly to the microphone, "Jane. Jane Elliot." She announced, and then leant back. I felt my brow furrow at that, trying to work out why that name sounded odd. It shouldn't. It was perfectly plain. I cleared my throat when I noticed Jane looking at me expectantly, and I saw my awkward reflection in her glasses. I cleared my throat a second time and looked to the list of questions in front of me.

"Thankyou Jane. And how old are you?"

"Twenty three."

"And your occupation?"

"Entrepreneur… of sorts."

I raised my eyebrows at her. 'Entrepreneur' had always been the sanctimonious code for 'unemployed'.

"Do you enjoy your work?" I needled. I saw her mouth twitch.

"I'm good at it," she replied.

I chuckled. "Yes, but do you _enjoy_ it?" I repeated. I saw her lips twist thoughtfully.

"…Yes." She finally decided, "It's interesting, keeps me active," she replied, her mouth pulling into a grin, like she was in on a joke I knew nothing about. Maybe she was a stripper or hooker? Hah.

"So, Jane. In light of the disaster at the quad open day last weekend, involving the bloodshed between the Sons of Samedi and notorious Thirds Street Saints, do you have any opinions on the gang activity in the city?" I asked, smiling as charmingly as I could. Jane tilted her head slightly.

"Yes. I do." She replied bluntly, and then added after a pause, "Do you have any questions that could be a little more direct?"

Her tone made me suddenly awkward around her. Uneasy. My instincts were warning me to get up and leave. I glanced back down to my questions and chewed my lip – I didn't have time to turn down this interview.

"Well, do you denounce the gangs? Do you think they are a product of a Capitalist political system? Have you been personally affected by the gang activity or do you blame anyone for their existence?"

She actually chuckled for a moment, putting her thumb to her chin.

"I… do _not_ denounce the gangs, I _have_ been personally affected by them, and I blame their existence on the people who are in them."

"Would you want to see them removed from the city?" I added, curious at her cryptic answers. I was surprised when she shook her head.

"No. There'd be no point. You take all the gangs out of this city and it'll only create a vacuum, drawing new gangs in… they're… organic. I mean there'll always be criminals, it's the way of the world. Excuse me, you mind if I smoke?" she asked as she drew out a pack of cigarettes. I quickly shook my head and saw her press one between her lips, taking out a purple lighter and flicking a flame to life and igniting the smoke, breaking deeply.

"You mentioned a vacuum, are you referring to the collapse of the Third Street Saints approximately four years ago and the consequent rise of the Samedi, Brotherhood and Ronin?"

"The Ronin are finished." She said rapidly, sharply, as if I had offended her. I blinked. Well, the Saints had all but obliterated the Ronin from the North Island-

"Yes, I suppose they-"

"And yes, I was referring to that." She interrupted, taking a long drag and flicking some ash onto the grass. I shifted, waving away a little of her second hand smoke.

"But," I continued, "If there was a way to eradicate gang activity totally, no more violence, no more crime… you _wouldn't_ want that?" I asked, leaning forward. Though her opinions were proving interesting, I couldn't help but feel she was being evasive. Jane grinned at me.

"Nope."

I blinked at the single word response and felt my shoulders drop.

"And why would that be?" I pressed. Jane only shrugged, elegantly putting the cigarette to her mouth again, drawing in and speaking through the smoke.

"I dunno. I think life would be pretty boring, don't you?"

"You say boring, I think most of the student body would say safe or contented."

"Aren't those three words synonymous?" she said with a dry grin, tilting her head. I sighed. The Sex Pistols shirt should have given it away, she was obviously some wannabe anarchist or something, who thought violence and bloodshed was trendy. She'd probably piss herself if she ever wound up in a real gunfight. I scrawled the note down onto the paper in front of me.

"In light of that," I said thoughtfully, "I suppose you consider yourself to have a certain moral flexibility. You, like the Romans in the colosseum before you, would find human life expendable for the sake of entertainment?"

I had been expecting a cocky wave of the hand or laughter, but her features were suddenly still. It was a moment before her thumb finally flinched and tapped some ash onto the ground.

"Not for the sake of entertainment," she said eventually, "But I think society highly overvalues human life."

It wasn't the words so much as the tone with which she said this that made me shivver. It sent a race of cold up my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I suddenly wished I hadn't antagonised her just then. But my damn curiosity was getting the better of me.

"What value would _you_ give it?" I asked, my voice low and trying to see past my reflection in her aviators to the eyes behind them. She took another drag of her cigarette before answering.

"None."

I raised an eyebrow, "None at all?"

"Well, I don't suppose that's entirely true." She said with a coy smile, tapping more ash off her smoke, looking away pensively, "Okay. The value of a human life is entirely dependant on their relation to _me_." She said. I had to laugh, albeit nervously.

"That's a rather arrogant assumption." I suggested.

"It's a logical one." She said in all seriousness. She drew down on her cigarette again, finishing it and stubbing it out into the ground. "If you care for someone, you want them safe. If you despise someone, you want them killed. If you don't know them, it's really no big deal either way, is it?"

"Ah, but those people you don't know mean something to someone else," I challenged. She only raised an eyebrow.

"But not to me. Why should I care?" she leant forward, drawing a second cigarette, somehow looking threatening when she did.

"… Because every human life is unique and precious-" I started, but she cut me off with abrupt laughter.

"Is it? Really? _Every single one?_" She lowered her glasses slightly and peered at me over the top of them, revealing large grey/blue eyes thickly lined with black. Those eyes made me nervous, and something niggled in the back of my mind. Something was off about this woman.

"So… you'd happily exchange one life for another?" I said, trying not to whisper.

"Happily." She reiterated. I swallowed carefully.

"What'd be your limit?" I pushed. I realised we were far off topic by now but I couldn't stop myself.

"Could you elaborate?" She said quietly. I shifted.

"Well, to save the life of someone your care about, a life _you_ value, what would you do? How far would you go?"

Jane's blue eyes were fixed on mine now. They were cold, and I felt transfixed by them.

"I'd level the fucking city." She said quietly, and I honestly believed not only that she would, but _could_. I tapped my pen on my clipboard, staring down at my list of questions, very few actually answered.

"You'd happily take thousands of innocent lives in trade for one?" I clarified. She nodded casually, and I found myself a little annoyed at that.

"Would you kill _me_?" I said quickly, unable to control myself. The woman's smile widened.

"I wouldn't _want_ to. I mean, I've been chatting to you and you seem like nice enough person. I'd be more inclined to take _his_ life than yours." She said, indicating to a random guy sitting over by the fountain, "But in the grand scheme of things I suppose you're still disposable."

I snorted. "You're trying to make it sound like you've killed before." I said, trying to hold back from any more smart-ass comments. That would just be bad interviewing technique. Jane was still watching me with a fixed gaze, like a cat watching its prey.

"I suppose I am." She said coldly. I blinked, suddenly uncomfortable.

"What, are you admitting to murder?" I asked, trying to make my tone dry and funny. She only raised an eyebrow.

"Hypothetical murder." She purred back with a wry smile.

I swallowed carefully, glancing down at my notepad and trying to think back to what we had been discussing – she had a habit of taking me off on a tangent. Ok. Value of human life.

"… Does _your_ life have value?" I asked quietly. She went to make a swift answer but quickly held back, frowning. I almost smiled, thinking I had her. She pushed her glasses back up onto her eyes.

"No. I suppose it doesn't really." She said with a smile, followed by a chuckle. She drew a long breath through her smoke, still smiling.

"Uh, okay." I said, letting out a short breath while she enjoyed her smoke. I read through the list of questions I had there, a variety for the various responses. I looked away from the paper. It wasn't helping me much.

"Okay," I repeated, "We're a bit off topic. Uhm, going back to what you said before, about not wanting to see the gangs removed from Stilwater. You said there would be no purpose to it. Uhm," I hunted down the paper for a good question. "Okay, do you think that these gang members could be rehabilitated?"

She automatically shook her head, and then glanced at the recorder, speaking for its sake.

"No. Some, maybe. But it'd be unlikely. Certainly not if we're using the penitentiary system to that end."

I nodded thoughtfully, "And why do you think these people cannot be redeemed?" I asked. She froze up a little.

"_Redeemed_? From what, human nature? You mentioned the Romans in the colosseum before. That is a _prime example_ of human nature." She frowned, finger tapping her cigarette habitually, "See… I'm not much of a history buff, but… you know about the Battle of Culloden, right?" she said, leaning forward. I nodded; who didn't? She surmised regardless, her hands beginning to weave emphatically with her words. "Cumberland defeats the Scots in battle, they retreat. So he chases them down and kills every last one of them. _Then_, he just keeps going; he slaughters nearly every man woman and child and burns Scotland to the ground. Why? Because _fuck the Scots_, that's why."

She'd worked herself up, taking a sharp breath of smoke and blowing it away furiously, "Humans have been tearing each other to shreds for the pure bloodthirsty joy of it since they first dropped out of the trees. It's why you pay money to go see violent slasher films and why kids sit at home playing sadistic videogames."

"It was a different culture. They were all different cultures, Stilwater isn't Ancient Rome or… England in the mid 1700's. The morals of the society are different." I interjected.

"The morals of every society are different, it's illusions placed on you to make you feel bad about your natural impulses." Jane said, waving a hand dismissively. I grinned.

"So you're a Nietzsche girl then?"

"What?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Nietzsche's theory of human nature. You know?" I asked. She clearly didn't. I sighed and continued, trying to summarise it easily. "Some say all men are created equal, Nietzsche said all men are created dicks."

Jane laughed at this and nodded, "Well, yes then, I guess I am."

"So how would you explain charity work and outreach programs? People giving endlessly of themselves to better their community?"

"Well it all stems from the same instinct, doesn't it?" She said bluntly. I must have been giving her a quizzical look, because she raised her eyebrows and continued, "Survival. Both selfish and selfless acts are based entirely around survival."

"How so?"

"People have evolved to live in communities, so there is a base instinct to protect and maintain your community, which is why people feel obligated to… charity work and shit." She said, frowning as she tried to explain herself and taking another sharp drag, hands beginning to move expressively as she continued, "It comes from survival. And the desire to not only kill your enemies, but _obliterate_ them, to prove to be the best, the strongest the most powerful also comes from that base survival instinct."

I tilted my head. "You've thought a lot about this." I suggested. She was still for a moment and I thought she might have looked to the ground.

"Yeah well, I don't sleep much." She said. I chuckled.

"What, guilty conscience keeping you up at night?" I said sarcastically.

"…Something like that." Jane said, sounding a little hollow. I tilted my head at her tone.

"I don't know if destruction is really a path to happiness." I offered. She continued to puff away on her cigarette.

"Happiness is only _one_ of many satisfying emotions. _You_ clearly haven't experienced say… the thrill of revenge," she said quietly, with a frighteningly dark smile, "The pride of success." She took another drag, "…_Happiness_ is fleeting. It's an orgasm, it's a good song on the radio, it's a cigarette after a long day. It's one of Laura's snicker doodles."

Her last comment quickly lightened the mood and I forced myself to smile, glancing quickly at my paper, hunting back to what we had been mentioning before.

"So protective and destructive instincts… they're mutually exclusive?" I said with a raised eyebrow.

"No." she replied, frowning slightly.

"But the gangs clearly don't have any desire to help their community." I added.

"The gang _is_ their community." She said darkly, "They're family."

I froze and became certain of something I'd suspected for a while – I hadn't thought so by the way she dressed but… the purple belt matched the purple shoes which matched the purple bra – my eyes flickered to her tattoos, and I spied the one on her neck – a purple fleur-de-lis. Oh fuck…

When I spoke my voice was desperately low and nervous, "… are you connected to one of these families?" I asked, trying to confirm my suspicions and immediately regretting it. I didn't want to be involved with these people – shit, what if I'd already drawn too much attention to myself?

She was quiet, watching me, and then slowly a sinister smile tugged as one side of her mouth. Her attention was suddenly caught by the deep rumbling of an engine and she looked to the road, her smile broadening when she saw a royal purple Venom Classic pull up to the curb, heavy dub step thudding from the speakers. A man stepped out of the car, a tight purple silk shirt over his torso, dark grey pinstriped pants slung from his hips. I felt my eyes widen and I began to recognise him, the sharp spiked hair with pale tips and the trademark pale shades over his Eurasian eyes. I'd seen him on the news. I panicked when he began walking over, smiling lazily at the girl opposite me, who I suddenly realised was speaking.

"Sorry, my ride's here," she said, standing and stubbing out her cigarette under her toes, brushing grass clippings off her jeans. I couldn't breathe – Johnny Gat was this woman's _ride_?

"Uh, that's no problem," I said quickly. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins; I scrambled to click off the recorder and shoved it and my notebook back in my bag, standing quickly, glancing towards Johnny Gat as he approached. This man was insane – no, no he was a total _psychopath_; he'd killed nearly _four hundred_ people, and was so confident and fearless he strolled about the city like he owned it. There was only one other person on the planet more elusive, more unafraid and unashamed than he was and that was-

I felt my heart drop into my stomach and I looked back at Jane. Jane Elliot. I knew why the name sounded so wrong, it was the alias Jane Eyre went by. I looked at the tattoo on her neck, I thought back to everything she'd said to me. I was a little thrilled, I think, but mostly terrified.

"Well, thankyou for your time," I said quickly, forcing a smile and turning away, trying to make my escape before Gat got there. He was a dangerous man; I wanted nothing to do with them or that gang. I took quick steps across the grass.

"Carmella?" she said loudly, commandingly. I froze, and then slowly turned around to look at her. Oh god… she'd remembered my name…

Johnny had reached her now, towering over her protectively, his focus shifting between me to the surroundings – he looked like he was waiting to take a bullet to protect the comparatively small woman, and I could only think of one person who would earn that from Johnny-Mother-Fucking-_Gat_. 'Jane' seemed oblivious to this; she'd taken off her sunglasses, fixing her dark gaze on me and suddenly the she didn't look like some college punk. She stood regally; her gaze was cold and imposing.

"… I enjoyed our talk," she called out to me knowingly. She flicked her aviators down and smiled up at Gat, and I was astonished to see him smile back lazily – in that moment he looked friendly, approachable even. They started talking and though I couldn't hear their words clearly, I saw him indicating to me. I felt frozen to the spot, watching them leave – she slid into the passenger side of the car, Gat getting into the driver's seat and revving the car into life and just like that, the two deadliest people in the city roared away through the university.

I can't be sure how long I stood there, painfully aware of the recorder in my bag, heavy with the weight of the interview on it.

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><p><strong>There's a funny little part in SR3rd where the boss yells out "I've read Jane Eyre 13 times!"<br>Hence her choosing 'Jane Elliot' as her alias. **


	2. Easy Money

**This is the first of the full-length 'missing scenes' from ASR and squishes itself in front of 'A story of more Woe'. This had originally been a short bit of action and bits and pieces of story that I'd been spitting out and it just didn't really fit together. It was patchy and half-assed, so I stuffed them into the dark depths of my laptop and forgot about them, never again to see the light of day... Till I bothered to go back, read it and work on the little fucker. Still patchy but not quite as half assed, I give you "Easy Money"**

**Fun game, guess which parts were written six months ago and what was written recently!**

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><p>The screen of another Black Jack pokie cracked and flashed as a bullet hit it followed by a splattering of blood, the music wailing and screeching as the machine short circuited. I crouched low and glared at the Ronin guards, trying to carefully pluck them off, but the exploding gaming machines and flashing neons left me feeling like I was about to have a seizure.<p>

"Can't believe you assholes are being so persistent," I chuckled lowly to myself.

'Tacky' was the first word that popped into my head when I saw Poseidon's. The place was smaller than I'd expected for one, and the half-assed decorations and lights screamed 'slot machines' rather than 'James Bond'. Still, bangers can't be choosers. Inside was no more impressive; lots of blue lighting, one huge water feature surrounded by a collection of slots.

"How you comin' there?" I shouted to Johnny over the sound of gunfire and screaming. He only briefly held up a hand before getting back to the second bomb. Pierce was to my far right and guarding the first door we'd rigged, to my left another two Ronin guards clattered down the stairs; it was clear they hadn't been expecting me to be right behind them. I shot one, dead before he knew what was happening, then lunged forward and grabbed the other around the neck, dragging her in front of me and helping shield Gat. The shooting suddenly slowed when I did and it gave Johnny the breathing space he needed to finish setting the timer which after a few moments alerted us with a familiar trill.

"Move!" Gat shouted at me; I gave a single bullet to my shield's brain, about to run just as Johnny's arm suddenly grappled me around the waist and he tackled me to the ground behind a poker table and knocking the wind out of me when I hit the star-burst carpet. In that second a deafening crack shattered the air and the explosives went off; I barely had time to slam my eyes closed and cover my ears. When I looked up again the air was filled with smoke and debris.

"Shit Gat, did you play football in high school?" I grunted, as I propped myself up. He got me good around the ribs there…

"Nope. Coach I was too rough," he joked as he dusted himself off and got up to his feet, gun ready and plucking off the few who'd survived the explosion. I was reloading my SMG as Pierce rounded another corner of shattered pokies.

"The boys oughta be here soon with the truck," he said as he hurried over to us. I spared one last look around the casino; from what I could tell the three of us were the only people left breathing.

"Right. Get out the front and wait for them, keep an eye out for any more Ronin backup," I ordered flatly and he nodded, instantly jogging for the front. I glanced then to Johnny.

"Let's start baggin this cash."

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><p>Two of Pierce's crew, Wheeler and some other guy… er… (I dunno. His name started with an 'A') took the truck. It was a cumbersome thing to handle but they seemed to be doing alright; me, Gat and Pierce were following in a Voxel Gat had boosted a few days ago. I drove; the boys were leaning out the windows and taking out the Ronin on our tails. When we heard the familiar wailing of police sirens I cringed with annoyance.<p>

"So they called the cops. Big surprise," Johnny said lowly, leaning out the window and letting off a few rounds from his SMG. I glared at the rear-view mirror, seeing not just the bright yellow bikes of the Ronin but also the black and white Five-Os of the SPD. And here I thought the advantage of robbing a gang casino was that the fuzz could stay out of it…

"We're gonna have to split with the truck-" Pierce said while he reloaded. I frowned; I wasn't sure about doing the draw-away so soon.

"You're sure your boys can handle it?" I asked, slowing the car slightly to drop behind the truck.

"Wheeler's the best driver I got," Pierce affirmed heatedly, "Him and his buddy are pretty slick, they can get themselves outta there when they need to."

The road began to turn and dip down into the Suburban district and narrowed my eyes again at the rear-view.

"Get the Ronin's attention. I want the gang on _us_, not the truck," I told Gat and Pierce who instantly leant out the window, aiming for the banana-bikers. Worst came to worst I'd rather Wheeler and his buddy arrested than hacked to bits with a Samurai sword. "…Alright then. Let's split."

The engine roared as I stomped on the clutch and swerved the car onto a new road; only one cop car followed, but all the Ronin seemed determined to catch us and make a name for themselves. I glanced worriedly to the truck which continued to thunder away down the straight.

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><p>Officer Ramirez yanked at the gears of the car as he sped over the West bridge after the truck, his partner Anoop riding shotgun and casually lighting a cigarette. The two were so stereotypically different it was joked around the station they should probably have their own sitcom; Ramirez the ambitious and hot-headed one and Anoop… well, Anoop was a porn star on the side and showed up to work in Hawaiian shirts, maintaining it was at least more professional than Lt 'Freeball' Freeman's clothing choices were.<p>

It's a Stilwater thing.

"Those Saints can't keep runnin' forever," Ramirez hissed as they shot down onto the South Island, skirting past the Arena. Behind them a few more Five-O's struggled to keep up.

"Yo they better not," Anoop said, checking his gun then aiming out the window, "I gotta be onset at six. Did I tell you I might be gettin' myself a role in _Bukakke Ninja_?"

Anoop finished his sentence by firing a few bullets at the truck which violently swerved – there was a deafening _BANG_ as one of the rear tires blew out and the truck jerked to the side of the road, skirting sharply around a _Forgive and Forget_ and into a parking lot.

"Nice shot!" Ramirez declared, swerving the car around after them. The truck had barreled partially through a fence, and the two men in the front clambered out; Anoop tried to get off a few more shots at them but the young Saints scrambled, dashing across the lot then up over the rear fence, disappearing from sight. Ramirez pulled up at the entrance of the lot and was quick on the radio, not about to chase them down himself;

"Attention all units we have two suspects on foot in the Arena district, identified as male and wearing purple flags. Suspects to be considered armed and dangerous."

Anoop only raised an eyebrow at his partner before slipping out of the car.

"You don't wanna go after them?" he asked his partner lazily and Ramiez just gave a dark smile, rubbing his hands together.

"Nope. Let them handle the thugs, we got the _truck_.

"What about that car escorting it?" Anoop frowned, checking his gun and letting his gaze follow the sound of sirens and flashing lights.

"Saw it getting chased down by some Ronin," Ramirez said heatedly as he paced to the back of the truck, rubbing his hands together before gripping the handle of the back doors, "They'll take each other out. The important thing is, we got the-"

The officer suddenly fell silent as he swung the back doors of the truck open, swamped with confusion. His partner glanced over his shoulder inside the truck, blinking flatly.

"… It's empty."

"No shit Sherlock!" Ramirez snapped, kicking the back of the truck furiously, "God _dammit!_ This bust was gonna make me _captain!_"

"Huh. Gotta wonder where the money _did _go…" his partner frowned.

Ramirez faltered, mind racing. Slowly he closed his eyes, groaning, "The _escort_ car… those god damn thugs…"

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><p>"I can't believe those pigs fell for that two-cent trick," Johnny chuckled as he pulled a duffle of cash from the back seat. I hauled my own bag of money onto my shoulders as Pierce began piping up, slinging another black bag of cash onto his arm.<p>

"Yeah, _you're welcome_," he said pointedly, "Guess my plan wasn't so bad after all?"

"Bragging rights are limited Pierce," I warned as I sauntered up to the front door, pausing for Johnny to unlock it. Must get keys for this place…

Once inside I dragged the bag over to the lounge and dumped it down, slumping onto the sofa and propping my feet up on the bag. Hard to believe I was already tired; I guess I really did need to get into shape.

"Eesh! We're home!" Gat called out and I had to raise an eyebrow; he seemed a little… _domesticated_. It was weird. Aisha called something back down the stairs at him but I knew from habit it would be a few moments before she'd make her appearance. Johnny swept past towards the kitchen, dropping his half-open bag of money on the coffee table as he did. "Anyone want a-"

"Yep," I replied instantly, picking up the remote and clicking the TV on. A job like this would be high profile; we'd have to be on _some_ news station… I yawned and shifted to be a little more comfortable. Pierce glanced at me; I must've looked ready to fall asleep.

"You know, we _should_ be counting this-"

"We can count _and_ drink, Pierce," I said flatly before tacking on, "…And watch TV. Multitasking."

Eventually Johnny returned with three cold brews in hand which he tossed in turn to me and Pierce. I twisted the cap and took a swig, watching the TV intently for any sign of us, even when I heard the sound of heels over the wooden floors behind me.

"Why is there a big pile of money on the coffee table?" Aisha asked by means of a greeting. Pierce cringed apologetically to her,

"It's a little complicated…"

"We shot up a Ronin casino and stole the cash," Johnny casually informed her. She shot him a sudden look.

"And you brought that shit _here_?" she asked disbelievingly.

Johnny twisted in his seat to look up at her with an expression as close to 'innocent' he could possibly muster, "Who else are we gonna trust with the money?"

"But the Ronin _know_ you stole it right?"

Pierce snorted, "They _wouldn't_ have if we would'a gone with my plan."

"Well if we went with your plan we'd till be talking about it," Gat needled dryly. Pierce waved a hand at him.

"Fuckoff Gat."

"_Excuse_ me?"

"Shut up we're on!" I snapped at the both of them, quickly turning the volume up on the TV to drown out any more of their bitching. Channel Six had us on, and Jane Valderama stood out the front of Poseidon's, regally addressing the camera.

"… _The daring casino heist has left police baffled. Standing next to me is chief of police, Troy Bradshaw. Chief, how's the investigation going?"_

I felt my jaw drop the tiniest bit when the camera panned over to him. _Troy_. Full fucking uniform and looking… well, let's just say he'd looked better.

"_This is an investigation Miss Valderama, I can't get into details,"_ He said to her. I narrowed my eyes at t he TV, beside me I could feel Gat become tense.

"_What do you have to say about the involvement of the Third Street Saints?"_ Jane asked and Troy faltered.

"_I don't know what you're talking abou-"_

I blinked. Was he… was he trying to cover for us? Why the fuck… Jane had already cut him off, and the picture flashed instead to images from inside Poseidon's. Me, Johnny and Pierce were slinking across the screen, firing guns at off-screen targets.

"_This leaked footage shows the Leader of the Saints, recent fugitive and Saints Lieutenant Johnny Gat, as well as an unknown accomplice assaulting the Casino. Obviously the Third Street Saints are back after a long hiatus."_

"Alright!" Gat cheered suddenly and I laughed, a fist instinctively up and he bumped his knuckles against mine. Behind us I could hear Aisha groan something along the lines of 'oh god', but it was Pierce's yelp that drowned her out.

"Unknown accomplice my ass!" He said, waving helplessly at the TV where Jane was still harassing Troy. But I was satisfied enough; a quick flaunt on TV was all we needed to let the other gangs know Stilwater's _real_ owners were back. I certainly hoped Maero at least was watching…

"Alright alright, we've had our fifteen minutes," I said, lifting my feet from the bag and leaning forward to unzip it, "We gotta _clean_ this money."

"Do you even know _how_ to launder money?" Pierce asked, tagging a long drink from his beer to wash away his annoyance. I shrugged.

"I survived a boat explosion, I think I can handle buying and reselling."

"I'm hoping you'll be buying yourself some new _clothes_ with that cash?" Aisha asked with her eyebrows raised. I blinked at her flatly; beside me Johnny pretended to count bills but he was smirking to himself.

"I have clothes. I have your clothes."

"Bitch you been wearin' the _same_ haggard ass jeans for three days and I'm not havin' you stretch out another one of my tops with those huge-ass tits of yours," she told me flatly and I cringed, glancing down at my bust.

"…'not that big…" I mumbled and Johnny and Pierce snorted in unison. Without realizing I folded my arms across my chest, but Aisha was giving me a warm and amused smile.

"Just sayin', when you're done with the guns and cars, it wouldn't hurt."

"Guess'so…" I mused. I'd let Aisha take me shopping in that case, it'd be a good opportunity to catch up with her. That and she possessed the 'style gene' that I sometimes thought had skipped me completely. That's one reason why I liked wearing my flags; easy to coordinate when you only wear black and purple.

I drew my focus back to more important things than clothes, "Still, most of my split's goin to make the hideout livable-"

Johnny suddenly and loudly cut me off, "Can't be surprised at that, after the shit that happened at the last motel you stayed at," he said in an inelegant re-direction. I scowled at him sharply but Aisha already turned on me.

"What happened?" She asked quickly, a worried frown over her pretty face. I waved my hand dismissively.

"It was nothing-"

"Two pro hitmen tried to take her out," Johnny readily informed her, "Shot up the _whole room_ doin' it. Out on the streets again, huh?"

I shot Johnny a deathly glare but Aisha had already pounced.

"_What?_" She quickly responded, her attention snapping back to me.

"It's nothing Aisha," I pressed, "I got hits out on me all the time."

"So you're stayin' here then," she said flatly. Again, didn't sound like a question.

"No. I can get another room in the Red Light till the hideout is runnin' properly-"

"_Ugh!_" she ccringed, "The only people who stay there are crack whores and whores on crack. I'll put your stuff in the second bedroom."

"Ai-" But she was already gone, picking up my satchel and dragging it up the stairs. With a short scowl I thumped Johnny sharply on the arm.

"Asshole."

"What did I do?" he said with a cocky grin that told me he knew exactly what he'd done. Not long after Aisha and I had met and her sister Tiana had left for Steelport, she sort of decided I was her new little sister (and occasionally, make-over project). This somehow gave her the right to occasionally boss me around. At first I put up with it to appease Johnny, but after a while, I had to admit I kinda liked it. I'd never had siblings to squabble with or hang out with and when Aisha stepped into the roll so willingly it was difficult not to fall in too. She has a strange way of controlling people. Johnny was one of the few aware of this and clearly exploited it.

"C'mon, you'd really stay in a flea-bag motel than here?" he pressed, continuing his point from earlier that morning. I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"It's not that it's just… those guys were pros," I tried to stress to him, "I don't want them coming _here_."

Johnny gave me a long look, "…You really think I'd ever let anything happen to her?"

I shook my head. It wasn't rally the point, but he was right. It'd be better staying with friends than a place that needed a plastic sheet over the bedspread. I sighed, "It doesn't matter. I don't seem to have a choice anyway… _one_ night," I conceded, "Two at most."

I was well aware that Pierce was giving us curious looks, no doubt incredulous at the liberty Aisha had taken with me. I gave a wry smile at Johnny, "Damn. I'm as whipped as you are."

He thumped me on the arm. Hard. Probably harder than he realized and I gingerly rubbed my shoulder then shot him a sly smile.

"Worth it."

* * *

><p><strong>I had to throw in Anoop and Lt Freeball, Hitman was my fav activity in SR2.<strong>

**There's a chance other weird stories will be floating around in here soon. I got a few little ones set in SR1 that I'm toying with on the side :)**


	3. DELETED SCENE 01

**Here's the first of many deleted scenes from both A Saints Resurrection and Forever a Saint.**

**They're mostly ideas and ramblings that in no way really fit into the story and thus had to be chopped out, but now I'm blowing off the dust and bringing them to the light of day.**

**On that note, be prepared for awkward starts and abrupt endings!**

**This scene was supposed to take place in A Saint's Resurrection, shortly after The Boss has her first encounter with Zombie Carlos. I liked it, liked the OCs, but when it came to finding an appropriate place for them I realised this really served no purpose in the story.**

**I wrote it anyway.**

I grumbled and pulled my keys from my pocket, slouching over to my car and wrestling with the door, still stuck from where I'd ran into a concrete divider on the highway.

"Excuse me…"

I jolted and whirled on the spot, my hand slapping to my gun; however I didn't draw when I realised I was being confronted by a little pack of goth teenagers instead of… well, anyone else.

There were three of them, standing before me in a little sort of triangle. To the right was a short Asian girl, her hair braided down her shoulders – the one in the middle was a bit chubby, her hair was sawn off into a feathery bob and lips heavily coloured in with black lipstick. The last girl was clearly Hispanic but had tried to disguise her cocoa skin with layers of white makeup. They were decked out in their gothic finest of course, though I noticed the black in their clothes was only broken by small decorations of purple here and there. But around each of their necks on silver chains they each had a small burgundy vial that sat next to a purple, plastic-looking fleur-de-lys sat at the base of their throats. I realised they weren't plastic; they actually looked like shrinkie- wait… _They made shrinkie-dinks of my gang symbol!?_

That was enough to rub me up the wrong way – I wanted to rip the chains from their pasty necks but I settled with growling at them.

"The fuck are you lot?" I sneered; they looked nervous at that, except the girl in the middle who was undeterred and looking at me with wide, trusting eyes,

"My name is Beira," she said breathlessly, then indicated to the girls either side of her, "This is Rook and Belladonna."

Yeah, those were the names on their birth certificates for _sure_, "… Rook?" I asked dryly. The small Asian girl fixed unblinking eyes on me, her pouting mouth barely moving when she spoke.

"Raven was too mainstream," She replied quietly and then looked to the ground. I only raised an eyebrow, but the girl in the middle, 'Beira', stepped forward a little more.

"Mistress," she started and I instantly knew I wasn't going to like this, "We've been following you for a long time now-"

I drew my gun and pointed it between her eyes. A bunch of weirdo high school Goths creeping around after me? Better stomp out any delusions they had right now. The girls either side of her gasped and edged backwards, frightened, but the middle one, clearly the leader of the small trio, stood firm, her jaw set.

"Mistress I am not afraid to die, even less so by your hand," she declared, though her voice shook.

"_Katie!_," Belladonna whispered urgently, but she was ignored. I edged the barrel of the gun closer, watching her reaction but she didn't waiver. I guess curiosity finally got the better of me, and I dropped my aim from her, all three visibly relieved.

"What do you want?" I said flatly, and 'Beira' or Katie or whatever tried to hold back a smile, her eyes shining.

"We want you to teach us," she said breathlessly, "And share your secrets of immortality with us."

I tried to not let my mouth run away with me. These girls were odd, sure, but interesting, "… You do huh?" I asked dryly, and they all quickly exchanged glances.

"Not, not for free! We'll get you anything you need, we can prove ourselves worthy," Katie quickly said, the formality in her words slipping only briefly. I fixed a cold gaze on them all and 'Rook' and 'Belladonna' stepped closer together.

"She's testing us-" Rook whispered to the other, clearly more frightened than her friends. Katie was still watching me imploringly and when I wasn't replying she continued,

"We've been practising diablarie for ages," she said in earnest and I began noticing she had a habit of dropping in and out of her formal speech, "we can feel ourselves growing stronger, our mortal bodies transforming. But…" her fingers went to the blood vial around her neck, "when we collected your blood-"

"What?"

"From the road, at the university-"

"You stole my road blood?!" I gaped. It was a moment before I realised how stupid that sounded. The girls were looking to each other again, then they silently nodded, and Katie spoke up,

"They were going to wash it all away-"

"And that old woman at _Eye for an Eye_ wouldn't let us have any of what she had,"

"What the _hell_ do you want with my blood?!" I snapped and they looked to me confused, as if I should know.

"For… thaumaturgy. It's magi-"

"Oh no, don't you use that word around me." I warned and she quickly nodded and apologised again.

"Sorry, sorry. For thaumaturgy," she repeated and I made a mental note to maybe look some of this up, "When we drank it-"

"You _drank_ it? Are you nuts? I could have hepatitis!"

"But we wanted to be a part of you! By drinking your blood we can gain some of your power, but bind ourselves to your service!"

"Get the fuck out of here. I see you here again, you'll be shot on site, you hear me?"

"Wait, wait _please-"_ she begged, "We've brought you a tribute!"

I looked at her narrowly, "… Tribute? What like a present?"

"Yes… here."

She reached into her satchel and pulled out something large and round. She cradled it carefully and then stepped up to me, holding it out. A skull. It was cleaned up pretty nicely so I figured they must've bought it from one of their little Goth shops. But it looked pretty realistic, I had to say.

"A skull, huh?" I asked dryly – sure, that was useful. Beira's eyes widened excitedly.

"Not any skull!" she said quickly, holding it out further to me and I curiously took it – it was _really_ realistic, actually wouldn't surprise me if it _was_ real. Beira continued, unable to help but smile when I took the lump of bone from her, "It's the skull of your defeated enemy, Shogo Akuji!"

There was nothing but crickets in my head for a moment before I realised this girl was being freaking serious. Shogo's fleshless head sat there in the palm of my hand, empty eye sockets scrubbed clean and the bone bleached, but the cartilage of the nose was still intact.

"… You're not serious, are you?"

"Yes," Rook suddenly spoke up, "To join the world of the dead while you still breathe is an honour in our coven," she said, hands clasping in front of her and she twisted her fingers, "We found where he was buried and, and we unearthed him and took it-"

"The horror on his rotting face was beautiful," Beira said suddenly, her eyes twisted and dark, "We burned his flesh in tribute to the Mother of Demons."

I barely heard them - I was busy staring at Shogo's _fucking skull_ that for some reason I was still holding on to. These girls… grave robbed a live burial site, cut off Shogo's head and… Jesus Christ, Goths were getting adventurous.

"… Is it… is it okay?" Belladonna whispered. Honestly, I wasn't sure.

"Uh… yeah. Yeah thanks for this. Always wanted one." I said but I don't think they picked up on the sarcasm; all three heaved heavy sighs of relief and watched me with shining eyes. I don't know what the hell I was going to do with this thing.

…Pencil holder?


	4. DELETED SCENE 02

**Set late on in A Saints Resurrection… the event is actually mentioned in Forever a Saint but decided against it, preferring to keep her history a non-issue for that story. Told from Johnny Gat's POV, set at Rex's Bar.**

After a while I noticed she was unusually quiet – I glanced at her, just in time to see her eyes nervously flicker down, wide and staring at the wooden top of the bar. Her jaw was tight and she looked as if she'd just seen a ghost. Her lips barely moved when she whispered quietly to herself.

"What is it?" I asked looking over my shoulder for whatever it was that had caused her to freak out like this. I couldn't see anything in particular; a stranger had walked into the bar though, a man who looked to be in his late forties. Actually, there _was_ something familiar about him, but fuck if I knew where I'd seen him before. I looked back to my girl, her eyes were hard and she'd gone pale (and trust me, seeing her _go_ pale is really something). I quickly put my hand on her shoulder but she refused to look at me, quickly downing her beer.

"We need to go," She said lowly. The _fuck?_ Now, I ain't ever seen her driven away by anyone before, she was too proud and way too stubborn, "I'll tell you later but for now we just need to go,"

I nodded, glancing again to the guy who'd walked in. He was a little way down the bar now, ordering a drink, then he saw me glaring at him. He glared right back, and then turned to take a long drink, though he narrowed his eyes at me again, leaning on the bar and looking past me. I felt L- _the Boss_ tense when his gaze fell on her and she turned her head away.

Who the fuck was this guy? I turned, facing him full on so she was fully behind me. Her wrist was on mine suddenly and I slid off my bar stool, standing closely over her as she made a beeline for the door. Her face was a mess of anger and confusion; it was really starting to worry me.

"…. Hey!"

The shout was from behind us then and I knew it was that guy. I could hear his footsteps coming up behind us but she didn't stop moving, letting go of my wrist and shoving past people to get through the front door, continuing down the street towards the car. My hand gripped into a fist, I could hear the guy behind us, hurrying to catch up.

"Hey!" He was calling out again and I stopped and turned; _fuck_ this guy, _no one_ messes with my woman. He just about walked into me and I slammed my palms flat against his chest sending him flying backwards and he spilled onto the ground. The man glared at me, the glare was so damn familiar, why the fuck couldn't I place it? He was up quickly on his feet and staunched up to me.

"Back off you damn slope, I want to talk to _her_," He said, nodding over my shoulder. _Slope?!_

"Yeah you wanna talk to the Boss you go through me first asshole," I said stepping up till I was chest to chest with the man. _Come on, make one wrong move, give me a good reason you fucking-_

"Johnny, stop."

I glanced over my shoulder; she'd stopped, and was glaring back at the man. He stepped back from me, staring at her, and he looked… _sad_ or something.

"… Hey there Tiger," He said quietly. I stepped back, looking quickly from one to the other, and it was only then I started seeing the similarities. The high cheekbones, defined chin, the dead-straight nose that started a little higher than was common… She was glaring back at him hatefully.

"Fuckoff," she said sharply, her voice doing that sexy dangerous growl thing, "If you know what's good for you, you'll _never_ talk to him like that."

There was an unsteady stand off, and then eventually the man's shoulders lowered as he raised his hands.

"I been looking for you too long to fight with you" he said steadily; I only just realised his voice had the smallest hint of an accent, something east European maybe. She didn't look like she was calming down any time soon. The stranger went to take a step to her but I moved before I even realised I had, edging myself between them and he stopped, refusing to look at me. I heard her footsteps behind me then, and her cool hand on my arm, but I wasn't moving, not this time.

"You managed to stay out of my life for _twenty five years_, I'm pretty sure it won't kill you to keep it up." She said sharply. Yeah, I'm pretty certain now about who this guy is and… I had no idea what the hell to do. So I just tried to keep myself between him and her.

"It was hardly _my_ choice." He said coolly but she was already speaking over the top of him.

"_Hardly_ your _choi-_"

"You know Bridie-"

"Don't you fucking talk over the top of me and _don't_ you bring Bridie into this!" she snapped and I could see her temper starting to get out of control. I also noticed she said 'Bridie' with a strange lilt, kind of like _broidy_. The man was glaring at her intently.

"I want to talk to you without _him_ around," he said and _oh damn_ I wanted to fucking crack that asshole's skull open! It was only the hand on my arm that was holding me back.

"Gat's not going anywhere," She said icily and I felt her lean closer into me. The next time she spoke she sounded a little calmer, "I don't know how you managed to find me but… just trust me, you better go ahead and forget you ever saw me."

" Li-"

"Uh-uh. I go by plenty of names but that isn't one of them, not to you anyway," She growled. He met her with a hurt glare.

"I know who you are in this city, don't think I don't," he warned quietly, "It almost… doesn't surprise me… but there were a few years there where I thought you were _dead-_"

"What, since I was ten…? Bridie said you were in Lithuania" she said then, her head tilting to the side and I found myself wondering who the hell _Bridie_ was.

"I was in a lot of places. I came back to America when she finally decided to tell me you were missing."

They were silent for a while and let me tell you, it was awkward as hell. Finally, she spoke up, her voice strained and her eyes a mess of confusion.

"… _How _did you find me?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. The man shrugged.

"Saw a news report… I couldn't tell right away, it'd been that long. But Bridie said you ran off with your boyfriend so I was looking into that, found out he was killed in Stilwater… then I just looked you up, though you should probably know someone's stolen your identity," he shrugged and sighed. She shifted next to me.

"I know. It's a good thing…. Be out of Stilwater by tonight. If you don't you'll be dead by the end of the week, not a threat, just a fact." She said, and I saw her eyes softening a little, she looked sad.

"So that's it then?" he was replying, "Three years thinking you were dead, two years trying to find you and this is all I'm getting? I'll never see you again?"

"… Keep thinking I'm dead. I'm not the same person, not anymore," she said flatly, but there was something strained in her voice. I carefully put my hand onto her back and every single muscle under her skin was tense. I realised that for her, it wasn't just a matter of not wanting to see him; she couldn't give herself the option, she didn't have a choice, not really. The man watched her, and another strained silence stretched out, till eventually he turned his gaze onto me. I felt a snarl curling on my mouth.

"… Well," he said flatly at me, "I guess you better take good care of her then,"

"_I_ have been." I growled at the man and glared at him; not getting along with a girl's father was nothing new for me.

She turned a little and I threw an arm over her shoulder, matching her pace as she began to walk away. I knew tonight it'd either be nightmares or more sleep-talking (she was a hell of a chatterbox when she was trying to sleep through stress). We didn't say anything, even once we got to the car, and I noticed she was going for the passenger side door for once. I just nodded and slipped into the drivers' seat. When I looked back down the road, the man was gone. I looked to her; her eyes were closed and her brow was creased.

I fired up the engine and she still didn't say anything, so once we pulled out onto the road, I did.

"… So. That was your-"

"Yeah."

"… I think he liked me." I mused and she suddenly cracked a laugh, grinning and shaking her head.

"Thankyou for making a joke," she said tiredly and leant forward, turning up the volume on the radio. She sighed after a while and shook her head, "… Shit."

"So was Bridie your mom or-?"

"No, no Bridie's my aunt, she… you know what, it's a long and weird and complicated story, so…"

"I got the time if you do," I said. Okay, okay, maybe she didn't want to talk about it but damn was I curious. She shook her head.

"The time maybe, but not the energy. Can we just leave it for now? I'll go through it all but… I'm kinda thrown at the moment."


	5. Revenge

**Originally in Forever a Saint, the Boss and Gat had their positions swapped. The Boss had stayed behind on the plane, is captured by Loren and Gat had escaped with Shaundi and took apart the Syndicate.**

**This also means everyone thought the Boss was dead. This was the first scene I wrote for that story line but sadly I could only think of one other scene before everything came to a stand-still and I threw the idea out the window.**

**Enjoy this miserable little tale about Gat murdering someone!**

* * *

><p>"Oh God! <em>Please, no! <em>You – you said you'd let me go! Please _I'm begging y-_"

I picked him up by his filthy polo shirt and heaved, swinging him around through his crummy London apartment and sending him crashing into a set of computer monitors which crackled and flashed as they broke under his weight. He cried out and I advanced on him again.

Little British piece of _shit_.

I grabbed him by the shirt again, flipping him over to look at me and pressed my heel down onto his chest till he cried out and I felt a rib crack beneath my shoe. He clawed at my jeans but he was a pretty weak little bitch. I knelt down, glaring into his pale eyes.

"I said I wouldn't kill you in _cyberspace_. I never said anything about reality. And I never said I wouldn't _god damn enjoy it_," I growled. I drank his fear in… He gave a sob, and then cried out something hauntingly familiar.

"_I didn't kill her!_"

I smacked him hard across the face and before I knew it my fist was flying again and again till his lips and teeth were broken and his nose a flat red mess over his face. Then I gripped his skull in my hands, squeezing tightly till he started crying out, edging my thumbs closer and closer to his eyes. He began writhing and screaming, clawing at my hands.

I drew it out. I drank in his screams and let them soothe that dark beast curled in my chest, and slowly my thumbs began pressing in on his eyes and his screams intensified. I didn't care who heard or who came looking.

"PLEASE STOP! _PLEASE!_"

I didn't.

There was a sickening jolt as my thumbs broke through the thin retinas and Matt Miller gave the most satisfying, bloodcurdling scream I'd ever heard. Blood and clear jelly rushed out of his eye sockets and over my hands, and I ripped my thumbs out, slamming my palms down over his neck to shut him up, slowly crushing his throat.

Usually, you'd expect someone's face to go red then purple, then blue… but blood that would normally build up just rushed out of his eyes – it wasn't till I felt his body go limp that I let him finally go.

The sudden silence was punctuated only by the distant wailing of sirens, telling me the cops were well on their way. I could be famous as I wanted but when they found Matt like this… yeah. Well.

I stood up and moved to the tiny, filthy kitchenette, running the water to clean my hands, breathing deeply and wallowing in the eerie peacefulness I knew would only be short lived. I looked over my shoulder to Matt.

"How could I let her die, huh?" I muttered. Every time I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, those words tumbled in white down in front of me.

I might have let Miller go. I might have, but he had to push it that one step too far. Using his fucked psychological warfare and messing with my head like that when I was fighting him in that fucked cyber world.

I towelled my hands dry then pulled the glasses from my face, blinking a little as I cleaned them on my shirt. The sirens were closer now. Time to go.

I looked around the room and spied a fire escape out one window, clambering out onto it and heading up to make my escape over the crowded London rooftops. They'd be expecting me on the street.

I hadn't ever been to Europe. Sad, I know. Sadder still that the first thing to call me out here was solely revenge. I'd thought if I ever came out this way it would be with the Boss. Lil.

_Lil._

That sharp pain thing happened in my chest again and I slumped down against an elevated skylight.

How could I let her die?

Fuck…

_I should have known!_ I thought for the hundredth thousandth time. When we were on that plane, that look she gave me… I closed my eyes, unable to stop the scene from replaying, unable to forget that last look on that plane.

I hadn't believed it at first. She'd be fine; she'd call me any second to laugh about what a dick Loren was and tell me that she'd taken care of him. She'd survived everything else, I joked that after the nuclear holocaust there's be Twinkies, cockroaches, and the Boss.

But she didn't call. I left her messages, voicemail, I called all her places back home at Stilwater day after day and she never got back to me, even now when it was nearly two months later and she still hadn't called. Everyone else had seemed to accept it; everyone else was saying she was dead and they were crying and falling apart, and looking to me…

And they started calling me Boss. Not Shaundi and Pierce, but the new crew did.

It drove me insane every time they said it, but Pierce convinced me to deal with it. Lil had left me everything, I had always been her second, and they naturally looked to me. Pierce said the crew needed to call me that; we weren't in a position to be without a leader.

That was the start of the anger. At her, for abandoning me, at myself, for letting her do it. At myself, for being angry at her. At myself, more than anyone, more than Loren, or Killbane, or Miller, or that Viola woman. Part of me still wanted to kill Viola. I knew I shouldn't, she wasn't the same person now and she'd done everything she could to help us bring down the syndicate but still, _still_ I couldn't stop feeling so damn bitter.

There was a hot prickling behind my eyes and I knew I had to snap out of it, now was not the time. I heaved myself to my feet and continued over the rooftops, completing my escape.

* * *

><p>A few hours later and I sat up at the bar of one of those British pubs, swilling back a scotch (or 'short one'). My phone started ringing and I tugged it from my pocket – Shaundi. I clicked the little green answer button.<p>

"_Gat?"_

"Yeah Shaundi. It's done."

"_Right… You heard from Angel? He hasn't tracked down Killbane yet and Kinzie isn't getting any closer."_

"Nah, haven't heard anything."

"_So… you're coming home? For a while at least."_

I went quiet for a while. I wasn't coming home yet… and I was starting to think if I ever would.

"Not yet," I eventually answered. On the other end she sighed.

"_Johnny, we're going to need you back home-"_

"You n' Pierce got everything under wraps. You got a good crew; I know you can hold it together."

She went to speak again but I hung up, and then switched my phone off. I should probably organise when I'd go back to Steelport, or Stilwater. I stared into my scotch for a while, part of me knowing what I was going to do before I even decided to do it.

I wasn't going back.

I was sick of it. I was sick of that life, and I honestly don't even know how I got there. Got to be a celebrity, that is. Lil was the only one of us who didn't sell out, she didn't have her pictures plastered all over bill boards and running ads for Saints Flow. She'd let the gang get to be like that, but… I can't believe I'd bought into it. It had just seemed like harmless fun at first, it was _funny_. And while ever Lil was there, I never doubted it.

But she was gone now and it didn't seem right to go back. The Saints weren't what they had been, it wasn't about being an anarchist family it was about money and making stupid movies and being a bunch of limp dicks. I remember being in that cell with Lil and Shaundi and saying that to her, and she just looked at me knowingly. Maybe she'd felt the same way all along, which is why she never did what the rest of us had.


	6. Forever a Saint ALTERNATE ENDING

**Here it is… the **_**other ending**_**. I liked leaving everything up in the air though.**

**SO IF YOU DON'T LIKE ****SPOILERS,**** BUGGER OFF.**

**Ehem, sorry if that was rude… but yeah. Enjoy!**

My foot bounced worriedly as I sat on the edge of the bed. This was _bad_. I thought back to every time I heard one of the girls in the gang got knocked up and oh sure, you _say_ congratulations but you can tell from the look on their faces they don't believe you. Because deep down, all you can think is 'Poor thing. Her life is over. She gonna have to work three jobs and raise that thing alone.'

Some logical part of me says my situation is totally, utterly different to those girls, which it is. But it's cultural conditioning, I guess.

Babies are bad fuckin' news.

The sound of the pipes and water shut off and I heard Johnny get out of the shower, the padding of his feet crossing the tiles, the soft swish of a towel being pulled from the rack. A rustle as he starts to dry. Before I knew it the door to the ensuite slid open and he shamelessly strutted on out into the bedroom, dropped the towel in the hamper then went to the closet for clothes.

_Damn sexy bastard, this is all his fault_. Man, there's a logical fallacy for you…

While he was rummaging around for jeans he glanced over a tattooed shoulder to me, noticing I was staring at him. He grinned.

"…You enjoyin' the show there?"

"I'm pregnant."

The room ground to a halt. Hell, it felt like a movie trailer record scratched, dogs froze saying _'aroo?'_ and the _whole damn city_ ground to a halt. Johnny blinked, only one leg in his jeans and he stared at me for a very, very long time.

"…Come again?" he finally asked. I tried looking nonchalant, calm.

"I'm pregnant," I repeated. He looked me up and down, probably wondering if this was some elaborate prank. I cleared my throat. "Gat finish putting your pants on."

He did. I watched him the whole time, trying to figure out what was going through his mind. He came over and sat down next to me on the bed, eyes a little wide and he stared at the carpet.

"…How uh… how far along?" he asked. He sounded really, really weird. _Of course he did _we'd never exactly had a conversation like this before. I netted my fingers over my knees.

"If I had to guess, three, maybe four weeks," I said. I actually heard Johnny swallow.

"Look, don't take this the wrong way, but… _how?_" And it was utter confusion that he looked at me with, "I thought you were getting those injection things each month?"

Now _this_ was the really awkward part. "Well, you were gone four months. So I wasn't getting them," I reasoned, "_Then_ you came back but shit was still so crazy that I uh… forgot?"

It was Johnny's turn to give the flat looks.

"You _forgot?_" he repeated. We both looked ahead at the bedroom wall then. Beside me Johnny dropped his forehead to his hand, rubbing his brow with a thumb and forefinger.

"…Wow," he eventually said, drawing a long breath through his nose, and straightening. "So, what's our next move?"

I shook my head, my mind becoming steely, "Well I figured I'd just… get rid of it."

To my surprise Johnny snapped his head up and stared at me, eyes wide. When I realised he hadn't been expecting that answer we both went to speak, stopping and verbally stumbling over each other for a moment.

"Wh-?" "I-" "No, you go-" "You don't think I-?" "Well, yeah I mean… no-" "Cos it's not-"

We both stopped talking and stared at each other. You know someone this long it gets pretty hard to be shocked by them. We'd managed it now though. Johnny cleared his throat again and looked forward.

"No, that uh…" he rallied himself, "Sounds like the thing to do."

Usually I'm glad when someone takes my side. This time, I was surprised to find it hurt a little. "Well so long as we're agreed then," I mumbled.

"Yeah, yeah agreed," he said swiftly. This room was suddenly very small and I began feeling nauseous again. I dropped my head a bit to try and stop the swirling, sickly feeling churning in my sinuses and stomach.

"Fuck…" Gat eventually said, "I'm gonna need a moment here."

I nodded, not really wanting to vomit right now, "We can talk about it another time."

"Right." Another short silence. "Does anyone else know?"

"No, uh-uh," I grumbled, shaking my head. Well, it wasn't going as bad as I thought. Johnny hadn't bolted or climbed out the window. Still, I couldn't get that look he had out of my mind, that shock when I'd told him what I planned to do. He truly hadn't been expecting it…

"I gotta know," he started after a while, levelling a foreign look at me, "You already decided what you're gonna do, why tell me?"

I blinked. "…You _kinda_ have a right to know about this shit, don't you think?"

The corner of his mouth tugged into a frown, "I mean, you decide something like that _then_ come and tell me about it?"

I studied him a moment. "…You don't think I should get rid of it?" I asked and he quickly put his hands up.

"Whoah, I didn't say-" but he didn't finish his sentence. We were staring at each other again, our eyes locked.

Perspective started shifting then.

_This was Johnny_. He'd been my best friend for ten years and I knew in the deepest part of me that he'd always be in my life, because we were just tied like that. And for all the years since conquering Stilwater for the second time, he'd been a _lot_ more than a best friend…

He was my home. The man I love.

He was a part of me.

If I was ever gonna have a kid it would have been with him. And just like that I was trying to remember the reasons to get red of it in the first place. My expression must have been changing because I felt his hand cover mine, grip squeezing on my fingers.

"Lilith," he said lowly, "We got plenty of time to think this shit through."

I could only nod.

For a long time we just sat in silence, stuck in our own contemplation. After some minutes, Gat's shoulders shrugged with a silent laugh.

"Three weeks. I work _fast_."

I snorted a surprised laugh out, shouldering him a little, "Well if you didn't go commando all the time… though I guess me being absent minded as fuck didn't help."

"Nope."

Another beat of silence. He smirked at me and I rolled my eyes.

"What?"

"Nah, just the thought of you waddling around all barefoot carrying my son," he joked and I thumped him on the arm.

"Fuckoff Johnny," I said lazily, then stitched on as an afterthought, "And it'd be a girl."

"Don't think so."

"Yeah well I _know_ so," I said haughtily. I realised then we were smiling at each other, my hand still wrapped up in his, bantering about… our _child_. Identical looks of realisation passed over us both.

Wow… I think we just agreed to have a baby.


	7. Diaries of an Alien Overlord

**Woman enough to say, I was wrong for being so cynical about Saints Row 4. Maybe it's becasue I nearly cried when I discovered Jane Austen would be narrating the whole damn story, and at the end, holy shit, the Saints get to fucking meet her! Anyone who knows me knows there's two things I'm obsessed with. Saints row, and Jane Motherfucking Austen. The chances of those two meeting in a cultural mashup?!**

**Anyways. It's not quite a full-blown Saints Row 4 story. I like the idea of trying it but right now I'm still trying to find time to work on original stories. Still, this one got stuck in my head on a drive one day so I had to get it down.**

**A few of you have contacted me about how in Sams Hell I was going to fit the ASR and FAS cannon into the new story. Then I found out the Zin can travel through time and it suddenly became very easy. Time travel plus alternate dimensions = ...cannon? Sorta?**

**As far as villains go I liked Zinyak. Ok, ok, so the whole, "Evil enemy with a thing for fine culture" has been done to death, but still, he was more appealing than Killbane ever was-**

**I'm ranting. Please, enjoy my attempt at understanding concepts of time travel**

* * *

><p>"I am sorry, my dear. I am glad you did not have to see it… When I consider it, yes, destroying the earth was an error. It was a waste, to be sure. The planet still had a great many natural recourses, the native population had spread and created a very good infrastructure, not to mention the population was reaching the zenith of it's exploding point. Nearly eight billion native slaves… the planet was ripe for the taking."<p>

Zinyak folded his gnarled fleshy pink hands behind his back, black eyes distant as he began to slowly pace a little.

"You may think eight billion is a lot to deal with. But the Zinyak Empire has, I am not above saying, made mistakes where planetary population is concerned. Strike a young and under developed planet and I promise you will effectively wipe out nearly all of the population and have no one to work the planet. In the long run, it makes things a lot more Time consuming. And Time manipulation does not often have the outcome you desire."

Something akin to a laugh bubbled from him, albeit a tired one. He stoped in his pacing and after a moment took a seat on the cold steel bench, a rare, relaxed posture. He continued,

"…The Leader of the Saints does not know it, but this is not the first time we have faced off. And yet, because of the delightful duality of Time travel it _is_."

"The concept was simple; go back and remove Johnny Gat from the Timeline, bring him into Zin custody and wear him down with years of being trapped in his own nightmares. He's a remarkable specimen; strong, resilient, not terribly bright but ads a certain diversity to my menagerie of humans. I did not want to go far; removing a key element from a timeline disrupts reality enough, but the effects are worse the further back you go. So, I went back, _just_ far enough, far enough to be _sure_."

"Sure that he would disappear, and consequently, that vile daughter of his could never come into existence."

Zinyak shook his head, "Perhaps I am too hard on 'Lilly' Gat. She is – was – a remarkable specimen, even for a neonate human. She reminded me somewhat of Margaret Dashwood, young, vibrant, if a little out of step with the world. Smarter than both of her parents combined though that is hardly an accomplishment."

When he was answered with only silence he continued.

"The results of the Time experiment were astounding. A few people have survived where others have perished; the young, brilliant Matt Miller for one is now (if you would believe it) an _ally_ to the Saints. The Leader continued to elevate her gang, transforming from the personification of organised crime into the Leader of one of earths most powerful nations. Astonishing! Not becoming a mother did wonders for her career."

"She is different now, too. As a mother she was both more cautious and more vicious. Now I find there are some small differences; she still has that blind devotion to her gang but it was much more difficult finding something that she would _die_ for. This 'new' version of her is curiously flippant and has hints of apathy. I wonder sometimes if her drive to bring us down is because she genuinely wants revenge, or happens to really enjoy destruction."

He chuckled at a thought and stood, taking a few steps towards the softly glowing pod.

"There is one aspect of her tale I think you will enjoy. I understand that among the friends she is looking for, she is still determined to find Johnny Gat, who she has thought dead for so many years. Why, it is Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth all over again! Years of separation has not weathered down her heart or worn away her devotion. I could almost admire it."

He stared through the glass, his own reflection translucent and he recalled a particular timeless passage.

"You pierce my soul; I am half agony, half hope… Dare not say, that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you."

The silence fell thick again, till the distant whirring of the ship brought Zinyak back to reality. He cleared his throat.

"I changed her initial reality this time too. The first time I had captured her, she was truly trapped in her nightmare of memories. There are many dark secrets hidden in her mind; it was all too easy bringing those demons out to play. Of course I underestimated how she'd fight against this and the nightmare couldn't contain her long."

"This time I attempted an idealistic heaven, a world of peace, order, simplicity and wholesome narrow-mindedness… The Fifties. Alas, she still managed to break herself free of it all and… well…"

He paced a little again, and for the briefest moment something akin to shame crossed his eyes.

"It hasn't been particularly easy, this past stellar cycle. I was frustrated. I had gone to the trouble of going back in time to re-order reality and _still_ she escapes?! Every time one travels back and alters the Timeline in such drastic ways _splits_ reality and creates a second blasted dimension, I was not risking going back and creating _another_ split in reality because of this _insect_!"

He reeled in the sudden outburst, hands clenching and unclenching. When he spoke again his voice was controlled.

"There was a civil was on Gnol two solar systems over. There were uprisings on Thyanin on the other side of the galaxy. And for the second time around, the humans were resisting and the damned Leader of the Saints was paving the way."

"I… over reacted."

Silence. Zinyak folded and unfolded his hands, till he finally lifted his chin, looking to the pod.

"Still. Earth was made an example of. News spread across to all colonies of the Zin Empire and we have found astounding compliance since then. The humans are few in number, and the Saints have nothing left to fight for. Let them scamper about in their simulation, attempt to free their friends. They don't have the power of earth backing them up now; I don't see how a squabble of puckish rogues could bring down an empire."

Finally he reached out and pressed a three-fingered hand onto the glass.

"I doubt that my blowing up your planet will in any way endear me to you. But you need not worry, there are many other planets you could call home."

He stared through the soft blue light inside the pod that surrounded Miss Jane Austen. Zinyak prided himself that he could see past her hideousness; all that smooth, soft, pale skin, and she was so small and fragile! Also that strange, thick head of chocolate brown hair, the way her mouth formed soft lumps of flesh rather than a thin line over her teeth.

It was looking past her vile alien visage he remembered the brilliant mind and spirit within. He smiled a little.

"My dear, the humans can be a wonderfully creative and poetic race… I _do_ believe I have collected the very finest specimens. Thine words are music to me, thine mind entrances with such brilliance, such wit and liveliness!"

He pulled his hand back from the glass, a sinister smirk crossing his face.

"I can forgive your appearance, if you cannot forgive mine…"

The first time Miss Austen had set eyes on Zinyak the reaction was much as he expected; screaming, shouting assuming he was some sort of demon. Even after her abduction from her death bed, after revitalising her and healing her the authoress had not _exactly_ taken to the Alien Overlord like he had hoped. Give her time, he reasoned.

"Remember, my dear. Miss Elizabeth Bennet _despised_ Mr. Darcy before she truly knew him. The Beauty feared the Beast before she understood him. I promise you… I'll be the hero in this tale yet."


End file.
